


troubled seas

by centaur, witchofspaz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Angst, Codependency, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaur/pseuds/centaur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofspaz/pseuds/witchofspaz
Summary: Pirate captain Dirk Strider returns to port to restock, recruit, and to see (read: feel up) his little brother Dave, a lieutenant in the Queen's Navy. Dave is less than pleased to see him.Pseudo-historical pirate AU, born from the sentence: "What if Dirk was like Jack Sparrow, and Dave was Norrington?"





	troubled seas

**Author's Note:**

> tags are for purposes of caution; i dont think there's anything particularly triggering in this fic but their relationship is Super Not Healthy and dirk is super on his bullshit. also i couldn't find an ao3 tag for this but there are a couple minor/casual mentions of death by hanging
> 
> anyway!!!! so this started life as an RP thread in 2015 and a couple months ago laura was like "we should turn pirate au into a fic" so i dumped all the text into a doc and eventually got to work on it and i mean i really went to town. edited to change to just dirk's pov, edited for "this is four years old", added backstory details, and just juiced it up in general and i'm really proud of the result :3 :3 :3 hope u enjoy
> 
> \--xoxo kelsey/witchofspaz

It's been a few days past two months since he last saw his native harbor—and, more importantly, two months since he last saw his brother—and Dirk strokes the coarse stubble on his chin as his ship anchors in a safe cove. He’s pleased to note that his little rendezvous with Dave have become more frequent over time. The first time he left, when he decided to pursue a career in piracy, it was over a year before they reunited. The second, eight months. Most recently, it was only five months apart, now two. Two months go by fast on the water, but two months away from Dave was still agonizing. Two hours without Dave is too many, as far as Dirk is concerned.

It's a much larger risk to return so close after his last visit, but he’s confident the rewards will be worth it. Dirk wonders what sort of reaction he will elicit from Dave this time. Another half-hearted handcuffing? A shaky sword at his throat? He's almost giddy about the prospect as he arrives in the port, darkness settling into the town as he makes his way down the streets to the barracks. Somewhere along the way, he finds Dave patrolling with another sailor, and his heart aches pleasantly. He poses himself innocuously against a wall with tanned arms folded, his hat pitched rakishly back on his head, the smallest smirk on his lips, and waits for them to pass.

“Pleasant evening, sirs?” he calls to them, tipping his hat ever so slightly. There are certainly wanted posters bearing his likeness about town. They want him hanged. (He is not so privately proud of how quickly he’s gained notoriety.) His scruffy beard is new, and it is inky dark outside, and that is what he counts on to mask his face. Just as he counts on Dave to know his voice and his presence in spite of that disguise. 

The moment Dave recognizes his brother’s voice is visible, but likely only to Dirk, who is intimately familiar with his body language. He twitches slightly, like he was about to turn and look, but stopped himself. Instead he nods stiffly in Dirk’s direction before continuing on as if all is normal. No matter. Dirk has only to wait.

He’s smirking even before he hears the click of a single pair of boots hurrying towards him from the direction that the two officers disappeared to. Casually, he smooths out his jacket and fluffs the exposed linen cuffs around his wrists. He knows his clothing is surprisingly clean for a pirate. His hat is battered and worn though, a trophy, stained with salt water, and he adjusts it as Dave approaches.

“Back so soon?” Dirk asks him, eyes glittering darkly in the low light. The light from windows and infrequently placed lamps isn't enough to cut the dark and he can barely see Dave's face. That's a shame. Dave is probably making an excellent face right now. He pushes himself off of the wall and takes a step towards his brother, almost menacing. “And alone, as well?”

His hand itches to touch Dave's face; perhaps he can feel the expression even if he can't see it. “I hope there wasn't some sort of issue—” Dirk pauses, grabs Dave's wrist and looks hard at the embroidery on the cuff. He hadn't expected Dave to rank up so quickly. The face he makes is a mix of pride and distaste and both are evident in his voice when he finishes the sentence: “—Lieutenant.”

Dave yanks his wrist from Dirk's grip, brushing off his cuff as if Dirk soiled it somehow. He stands as straight and tall as he can, attempting to compensate for the several inches by which Dirk towers over him. “Indeed,” he confirms in icy tones, “I was patrolling and I spotted a wanted criminal.”

Dirk's smile gets a little wider when Dave puffs himself up, and at the corner of his lips, a tooth—the one behind his left canine—flashes gold. He should be offended by Dave's implication that his hands are unclean, by Dave rubbing at invisible dirt as though Dirk's touch is going to ruin that pretty gold thread that tells everyone what a good boy he is. Not like his father. Nor his brother. But Dirk doesn't take offense. It's hard to when he's sure that Dave really does believe his brother's hands are dirty—metaphorically at the very least. He dismisses that thought quickly. Dwelling too long on the matter makes him feel as though something is gnawing through his chest.

“A criminal?” Dirk echoes in a mild voice, still playing the innocent townsman. “Don't let me keep you then, sir. I'd hate to obstruct your justice.” He politely removes his hat for Dave and dips his head. “Perhaps you'll even be promoted again, if the man is wanted.”

A muscle tics in Dave's cheek. He takes a small, distancing step backward and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I'm not in the mood to fuck around, Dirk. Why are you here?”

“To see you,” Dirk replies smoothly, re-closing the distance that Dave tried to put between them. Of course, his answer is not the whole truth. As much as Dirk did want to see Dave, he was also hoping to recruit some new hands for his ship and stock up on a few things. Their last run didn't turn up much profit and he's thinking of taking his ship further east, maybe disrupt some trade routes. Longer trips require more manpower and more supplies, though, and those are hard to acquire with the Navy breathing down his neck whenever he docks. But he doesn't mind Dave breathing down his neck. He supposes that he might be taking advantage of his brother's reluctance to arrest him on sight, but he does love Dave for it.

“So, you've seen me,” Dave says stiffly. “Mission accomplished. Goodbye.” He looks as if he wants to say something more, but instead presses his lips together, turns on his heel, and starts to walk away.

Dirk moves fast and grabs Dave's wrist yet again, jerking him backwards into the shadows. He makes a noise of displeasure right into Dave's ear, sort of a tsking sound, like a disapproving guardian. Dave’s physical response is immediate and evident as his body tenses and his breath grows short. Good. He still has his older brother authority over Dave, even if Dave is obeying the commands of other men now too. “I don't think you're going to leave, Dave.” His tone is soft but cold. A little dangerous. _Prove me wrong_ is hidden in the words like a dare. “You didn't ditch your fellow lackey on guard duty to call me a criminal and prance off again. If you wanted to catch a pirate, then catch him, Lieutenant.”

Dirk waits, his lips starting to curl into a smile that he brushes against the shell of Dave's ear. "If you wanted something else…” He trails off suggestively. 

Dave shivers, nearly imperceptibly. “If I wanted to arrest you, I wouldn't have returned alone.” His voice is steady—almost.

“So why are you here, Dave?” Dirk mimics the angry tone Dave used when he asked Dirk the same question. He slides a hand over Dave's hip, drawing Dave back to press against Dirk's body like he's reeling in his catch. The closeness makes him ache and burn with want, and he presses closer, his front flush against Dave's stiff back. Dave releases a shuddering breath, but doesn’t answer. That’s fine. His silence is answer enough.

Dirk laughs softly, knowing that Dave's body is reacting despite the wishes of its owner. He laughs because otherwise he will become as bitter and resentful and angry as Dave, but it won't be at anyone but himself. Pirates don't carry remorse particularly well. “Don't be cruel, brother,” he murmurs, his mouth pressing against the sensitive hollow behind Dave's ear. It's as much to shake off his own thoughts as it is to shake off Dave's reluctance. “I dreamt of your voice for months. Don't deprive me now.”

In stubborn defiance, Dave keeps silent as the grave, but Dirk manages to draw out a small noise with lips against his skin.

“I dreamt of sounds like that too.” Dirk's hand curls around Dave's throat—though not to choke. He just wants to feel his brother's pulse thudding against his fingertips and feel the vibration of the sounds he tries to swallow. “I missed the noises you make. You were always so vocal in my head." If Dave won't help him fill the silence, then Dirk will fill it by himself, with a constant stream of increasingly hungry and dirty whispers against Dave's skin.

“Your skin,” he continues, recalling. “The best dreams were the ones in which I got to touch and taste, but dreams don't do you justice.” He explains by lavishing kisses down Dave's neck. “Come back to my cabin. I don't want to wake up tomorrow without you.”

Dave's never been very good at keeping quiet, even when he wants to. He makes a sound almost like a sob and shakes his head emphatically. He swallows hard, his throat working under Dirk's fingers. He’s always been an open book to Dirk, though he keeps his private feelings under wraps around all others. Dirk knows he’s affected, but his refusal is hardly a surprise.

"Knowing you, I’d wake up a hundred miles out to sea,” Dave explains hoarsely.

Dirk smiles sadly at that. His brother knows him far too well and he has never been exactly shy about trying to persuade—or coerce—Dave to join him out on the water. That was the plan from the start: join a crew, rise through the ranks, acquire a ship of his own, reunite with Dave, and sail around the world together for the rest of their days. To be free on the open water, not trapped in a crumbling tenement, choking on foul city air. He achieved his first three goals in record time, and he trusted Dave not to do anything stupid or reckless while he was gone—like, for example, joining the Navy. And yet here they are, Lieutenant Dave Strider of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and Captain Dirk Strider of the _Pale Horse_. Perhaps he should have let his brother in on the details of his career plans, but Dave has always been more concerned than Dirk with petty details like lawfulness, and he thought it better to present the situation as a _fait accompli_. Dave would see the virtues of it when they were shown to him under the right light. Dirk is still not convinced that he won’t yet see them. It’s simply a matter of finding his angle.

“I'll return you safely come morning, I promise.” Dirk rests his palm over Dave's heart, even though he is the one making the oath.

Dave snorts softly in disbelief, but makes no other reply. There is no excuse he could offer that Dirk will accept, and he knows that, but he has always been stubborn to a fault. Still, his hand finds its way up to cover Dirk's. He is weakening. His righteousness may soothe his conscience, but it can’t keep him warm at night, alone in his narrow cot.

He proves Dirk’s suspicions correct when with a quiet, pained noise, he turns in Dirk's arms, and reaches with both hands to pull him down into a fevered kiss.

Dirk responds instantly and fiercely, thrilled to have at least won this battle, minor though it might be in the scale of things. He devours his brother's mouth like a man starved, which isn't too far from the truth. Two months is a long time to go without a taste of Dave, and his lips are sweet and warm—a welcome respite from the salt of the sea. Kissing him makes Dirk feel whole again. Dave is his entire world and always has been. His devotion to his younger brother made him what he is today, quite literally.

With one arm, he pulls Dave tight against his chest and with the other he knocks Dave's hat off so he can clutch a chunk of blond hair in his fist. Dave rises on his toes to push back against Dirk's passionate assault. His arms wind around Dirk's neck, and he makes soft noises of desperation and need.

He’s able to enjoy Dave’s abundant charms for several minutes before his sadly strait-laced brother makes a sudden protesting sound and pulls back. “This is not the place,” he says softly. The words hold a shade of self-disgust that pricks Dirk’s ego, as well as his atrophied conscience.

“It could be,” Dirk replies in a beguiling murmur, refusing to relinquish the prize that he has won. He almost means it, too; he would have Dave in the street if he had no other option. A little desperate, he supposes, but beggars can't be choosers. His lips chase Dave's, sliding down from his mouth to nibble and suck along his neck. Dave is so… clean. Dirk doesn't fancy himself dirty, exactly, but he definitely is compared to Dave, who is clean shaven with his hair neatly trimmed and his uniform pressed. Dirk wants to muss that neatness up something awful, give his fair complexion some nice color through teeth marks and bruises.

But Dave is right, this isn't a good place for that. “Do you reckon we can make it to my ship before the clothing starts falling off? Or an inn, perhaps, if you are feeling particularly confident in your ability to keep quiet tonight.”

Dave flushes, the teasing comment hitting home. “Your ship is full of pirates, who can use their ears just as well as the patrons of an inn.” He lets his arms drop from Dirk’s body and steps back an inch or two.

“And yet, unlike an inn, with its meddlesome and gossipy patrons, my ship is full of pirates who don't give a single damn what they hear happening in the captain's quarters so long as said captain gives them their gold and grog.” Dirk's hand flexes on the small of Dave's back like he's itching to pull him back to where he was, but he allows Dave his space to be prissy and obstinate. The faster they can get through this inane argument, the faster they can get into bed.

“It’s irrelevant anyway,” Dave shoots back impatiently, “because I haven't agreed to go _anywhere_ with you.”

“Your britches are telling a different tale, Dave,” Dirk leers, casting his golden eyes pointedly down the front of his brother's uniform. 

“My cock doesn't speak for me.”

"Obviously not," Dirk agrees, smiling faintly in a teasing, almost patronizing way. It's a very “older brother” smile. He reserves it only for Dave. “If it did, you'd be in my bed by now. Enjoying yourself greatly, might I add.” With another suggestive stare at Dave's crotch, he reluctantly loosens his hold on Dave and thoughtfully rests his hand on his chin. Dave is teetering, Dirk can feel it, but he could tip the wrong way if Dirk doesn't push him in the right direction. Not that he doesn't have a contingency plan in case his efforts backfire. Dave's compliance is a foregone conclusion, because Dirk will kidnap him if it comes to it. But for now he will barter. “So, what are your terms?”

Dave laughs bitterly. “Is this a negotiation? How romantic. What exactly do you think you can offer that’s worth my inevitable regret?” His moral outrage would be more convincing if he hadn’t already given in to Dirk’s advances on several previous occasions. It is endearing, though.

“The same things I always offer you.” Dirk leans in and cups his palm over the erection clearly visible under Dave’s well-fitted breeches. The touch is confident, the product of an intimate understanding of Dave's anatomy, and Dirk can still feel the heat and hardness through the blue wool of the uniform pants; it makes his mouth water and his voice go thick and rough. “Myself and release.”

Fingers deftly trace the outline of Dave's erection, somewhere a button pops open with a snapping string noise. Dirk's mouth ends up pressed to Dave's ear again in the very next instant, breathing hot and wet against his skin. “If that's not enough, I beg you to remember you're talking negotiations with a _pirate_ , my love. Your honor and integrity doesn't mean much to me, as I have very little of either. I thought it would be kind to allow you to make requests, but my courtesies end there.” Dirk's teeth find his brother's earlobe and tug sharply to signal that he is done with Dave's stubbornness. His hand is hungry to get inside those pants. “I know you like I know my own blood, because you are that and more to me. I know everything you want, Dave, and I'll give you what I can.”

By the time Dirk is finished, Dave is wobbly on his feet and breathing shallowly. Poor boy. He really ought to have taken into account that Dirk is not only a pirate, but a highly successful pirate—because once he has determined what he wants, he will get it, without fail. He should have remembered there was a reason he's compromised his principles before in order to touch Dirk, to be with him, even when their rift was fresher and his anger was sharp enough to cut.

Dave lays his head on his brother's shoulder and latches a hand into his coat, because he no longer has it in him to do otherwise. He doesn’t respond for some time, but Dirk feels soft breath on his neck and knows that Dave is breathing in his scent, as he has done for comfort since they were children.

Finally. Dirk shifts easily from pirate back to brother, tenderly dragging a hand through Dave's hair, planting little kisses on his jaw as a reward. He smiles. The worst is over. Dave is done with protesting and going on about morals. It is always sweet for Dirk to get what he wants, and sweeter still that Dave is allowing himself to want it too.

“Was it necessary to damage my uniform?” Dave says petulantly, interrupting Dirk’s internal moment of triumph and making him chuckle. “I’ll have to repair it myself, you ass.”

“It was only a little.” Dirk spins the shiny button between his fingers, letting it catch the light while he studies it. “Brass,” he decides. “Worthless.” He pockets it anyway and then takes Dave's hand to lead him towards the Pale Horse. “Come, let's get off the street before I damage anything else.”

Dave follows like a child, but when they reach a street with other inhabitants, he finds his voice. “Doesn’t it look a little suspicious, us holding hands in the street like lovers?”

He spares a glance behind him at his brother and their entwined hands. His eyes have regained the dark, playful sparkle they had when he first saw Dave, but he releases his hand. “We are lovers,” Dirk reminds Dave with a cocky little smile. 

“Not a fact I care to advertise,” Dave hisses. “For a few reasons.”

His smile grows wider and he strolls down the streets with a swishy, exaggerated swagger. “I don't know why not. I'm quite handsome. Women are always telling me so.”

Dirk nods at some people they pass, mostly the shabbier, shadier looking ones that he clearly recognizes and are possibly members of his crew. No one calls out to him directly, but some of the grins and hat tips he gets make it clear that people know are familiar with his face, even bearded. No doubt many know who Dave is as well, though there are some who watch this officer of the navy trailing behind Dirk with wary eyes. There are others still who give them both furtive glances, clearly expecting an arrest or some sort of commotion. They will be disappointed. The commotion isn't going to happen anywhere they can see it.

“A handsome face isn't everything,” Dave says darkly. 

"Aye," Dirk agrees, heedless of Dave's plight and glowering. "It helps if you also have some sense."

They round a corner leaving the more populated area for some dark alley and Dirk turns on his heel to catch Dave's chin. Though he had been smiling and strutting down the street, his face is now perfectly blank and his eyes search Dave's. His tone is light and not unfriendly, but there is an edge to it. “Luckily, I was blessed with both. I'm going to have to ask you to close your eyes now, my dear Lieutenant.”

Dave's eyes narrow. He turns his head to twist away from Dirk's hand. “I haven't arrested or reported _you_ , and I could have. Why would I report the location of your ship?”

Dirk perfectly understands Dave's reaction, knows that he is hurt by Dirk’s lack of trust. It hurts Dirk a little too, that he cannot blindly put his faith in Dave like he always could when they were young. But that question reminds him just why he can't. His mind whirls with the possibilities, the amount of damage Dave could cause him if he wanted to, if on an impulse (and he is ever impulsive) he rethought his choice to toss aside his principles in exchange for his brother’s brief company. It's a stupid thing to bring Dave onto his ship, even blinded, but he does stupid things quite regularly for Dave.

“You are a good man.” That is his reason. Dirk can only trust a good man like Dave not to kill him. His crew? His ship? His freedom? Those he can't trust with someone wearing the Queen's colors, even if that someone is his own brother.

He touches Dave's cheek and speaks like he's comforting a child. “Please close your eyes, Dave. I plan to blindfold you regardless, and I don't want to have to fight you to do it.”

Pain and guilt flash over Dave's face as he understands Dirk’s meaning. He reaches out, brushes his fingers over Dirk's apologetically, and closes his eyes as asked.

Dirk unties the soft and sun-faded bandana around the crown of his head and refolds it into something that will passably block Dave's view. He isn't really concerned about that now though, since Dave has given into his wishes; Dirk is sure Dave's eyes will stay shut until he gives word to open them again. At this point, it's as much for mood as it is a precaution. He brushes his lips across Dave's eyelids in thanks before he ties the makeshift blindfold over them.

Dave has given up one of his senses for him and that burns in Dirk's chest like wildfire. He guides Dave carefully, sensitive to his lack of sight, holding his hand but also touching him often, caressing his face and his body both lovingly and fervently. It's difficult to keep his hands to himself when true privacy is so close.

Dirk has to take a rowboat to get to where his ship is docked and he mourns the loss of his ability to touch Dave the entire short trip. Once they are at the _Pale Horse_ 's bow, he calls up to one of the ship hands left to guard and a rope ladder flies down. Dirk debates a moment, eyeing the blindfold, then reluctantly pulls it off of his brother. His eyes are a little glassy, so Dirk directs him toward the ladder.

“You first, love.” He seems a bit unsteady, and this way Dirk can watch him climb and catch him if he falls. Dirk holds the ropes firm for him until he reaches the deck, and follows swiftly behind. For all his talk earlier of pirates and their ears, Dave latches onto him as soon as he has two feet on the planks, leaning into his side without any regard for the presence of Dirk’s crew. Evidently the blindfold affected him just as much as it did Dirk. 

One arm wrapped possessively around Dave's waist as he drags him towards his quarters, Dirk informs the deckhands who greet him that he's not to be disturbed. Once behind closed doors, in the familiar comfort of his room, he gives Dave what he wants. What they both want.

His eyes burn into Dave's as his fingers deftly fly down the buttons of the Navy-issued coat, and he has thrown it on the floor in a matter of seconds. The shirt underneath is not treated nearly as kindly. Dirk decides he is too impatient to bother with all of the fastenings and simply yanks the front open, showing no remorse as buttons pop off and scatter on the floor. With a shove to the center of Dave's newly exposed chest, he is finally where he belongs, sprawled in his back on Dirk’s bed. Dirk throws his own coat across the room and tugs loose the lacing at the front of his linen shirt. Dave watches hungrily, gaze drifting from his eyes to his chest and down to the bulge between his legs. He licks his lips.

Dirk captures those lips fiercely, with teeth and tongue, continuing to push on Dave's chest as he crawls over him on the bed. His hands are as ravenous as his eyes and mouth, searching up and down Dave's sides, across the planes of his stomach, and shoving behind Dave to grope at his ass. He can't feel up his brother fast enough to make up for the time they spent apart, and it makes his touch both fleeting and rough.

There is something like a growl building in Dirk's throat, a noise of desperate need and want; he hasn't felt this out of control in a very long time. He finds the fastening on Dave's trousers and shoves them just past his hips, just enough to expose his straining erection. Dirk lasciviously scans down the body under him, lingering on his cock. He leans and whispers lewdly into Dave's ear, a laugh in his voice. “If you stand at attention half as well as your cock, it's no wonder you were promoted so quickly.” 

Dave sets his hands into Dirk's sides and digs in with his nails, drawing a soft, pleased gasp from him. “Are you going to make bad jokes about it or are you going to touch it?”

“From your tone, I presume you'd prefer the latter.” He sounds nearly gleeful under his hungry rasp of a voice. He's never made it a secret that he loves having command, and that extends to what he does in his bed. Not that he often beds anyone but Dave. “I suppose I could,” he starts, and then tilts his head, considering. “If given some incentive.”

A look of pained exasperation crosses Dave's face. His hips shift on the bed in mute entreaty. It won't convince Dirk, and he knows that, so he reaches for Dirk's belt buckle, undoing it before moving on to the fastenings of his trousers. His hand slips inside. “This what you had in mind?”

“Mm, well.” Dirk is still all smiling, lusty eyes and mild amusement, and he lets a hand lazily wander up Dave's thigh. Whether that is indication of him upholding his part of the barter is unclear, since he is still pointedly not touching Dave's cock. “It's not terribly off.”

“E enlighten me.” Dave's voice is thick. His hand wraps around Dirk's erection and strokes up once. “How many inches am I off by?”

“I suppose as many as exist between your hand and your lips.”

Dirk lets his hips do what they will, which in this instance is nudge his cock against Dave's hand, trying to coax more petting out of him. He is generous enough to reciprocate a little more fully now; his thumb flicks over the dripping head of Dave's dick, and he licks it clean before touching Dave again. His fingers are calloused, but his touch is soft, tracing along veins and his frenulum. Dave provides much kinder treatment than he is given, moving his hand up and down Dirk's shaft with firm pressure. “Or it might be the same number as the distance between your ass and my cock.”

“Both interesting proposals,” Dave murmurs, punctuating his words with a twist of his wrist.

“Flexible, are we?” Dirk purrs under his breath, which is coming a little heavier now. He grabs Dave's cock then, without warning, dropping his teasing and instead gripping him tight as he tugs fast and rough like he is trying to drive Dave to the edge as quickly as possible. The look in his eyes is as wicked as his hand is unrelenting.

Dave moans delightfully loudly, his lids dropping all the way shut and his head arching back into the pillow. His grip slackens as all of his attention narrows in on the intensity of the sensations between his legs, and his hips jerk convulsively with the rhythm of Dirk's hand.

“Ah, so this what you were after, love.” Dirk murmurs, a self-satisfied, gloating smirk curling on his lips as he follows Dave's head rolling on the pillow. He wants that view, Dave's face twisting in pleasure for him, so he hovers, propping his head up on his palm, body curled over Dave's. He doesn't mind he isn't getting touched now; it was never really about that anyway. His hand works to draw out more moans and with every little thrust of Dave's hips, he wrings his fingers around Dave's cock.

Dave seems to sense Dirk's gaze and opens his eyes to meet it. Driven from aroused to overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, his face is heavily flushed, with a light sheen of sweat. Needy words and sounds of pleasure are pouring from his mouth nonstop now, and his hands twist in the sheets.

Each noise from Dave's mouth is sweeter than the last, and Dirk can only hope his crew is enjoying the symphony half as much as he is. He drinks in Dave’s blissed out expression, the sweat on his burning face, and his lips parted for his gasping breaths and cries. It's the most beautiful sight he has seen in months. He can't help but kiss Dave's temple, sweet and gentle in contrast to the movement of his hand.

“The night is very young,” Dirk whispers, nuzzling Dave’s ear with his nose. “And yet you are quite close to spilling your seed. Should I stop touching you?” Even as he speaks, he doesn't slow his stroking. “I ask only because I plan to take you as many times as I can tonight, and I would hate for you to be asleep for it.”

Dave shakes his head frantically and leans his face into Dirk's, pleading. “Oh fuck, Dirk, _please_ don't stop.” He’s trembling all over; it’s quite satisfying.

Dirk smiles fondly, giving Dave's face a smattering of little kisses, though something shameless and wicked is building behind his eyes. “I thought you might say that,” he purrs, and removes his hand entirely. Before the pitiful cry can finish leaving Dave’s lips, Dirk has spit in his palm and returned it to where it belongs. He's not so cruel as to make his brother teeter on the brink of release. Well. Truthfully, he is, but he chooses not to be at this moment. He hopes Dave is grateful for his magnanimity. 

Slicked up with saliva, Dirk's pacing becomes less regimented and more erratic. He tries to mimic the frenzied state he normally gets into when he fucks Dave, since that has never failed to bring Dave to climax in the past. 

Within seconds, Dave is clearly beginning to crest, and with the hand not clutching the sheets, he reaches for Dirk, grasping at his waist, nails digging in heedlessly. His seed spurts onto his stomach and chest and he cries his climax with a volume that is surely audible to anyone within twenty feet of the captain’s cabin.

If it keeps up like this, Dirk is going to have more marks and bruises tomorrow than Dave will. The thought doesn't bother him too much, because he has a vision for making this a memorable evening, with or without Dave waking up purple and red in the morning. Dirk works his brother through his orgasm, his affectionate crooning lost under Dave's near scream. But even after his cock has been milked dry and tries to soften, Dirk doesn't stop touching him. Dave told him not to stop. He is only obliging. 

Dave's cry of pleasure turns to whimpers and squirms as the friction on his oversensitive flesh pushes over the edge from pleasure into discomfort. He tries to twist his hips away from Dirk's hand. “Enough,” he moans, rather pitifully.

Dirk kisses Dave's temple again. “Not for me,” he says, pressing his knee heavily against Dave's thigh to keep him from wiggling away. His stroking slows and he loosens his grip, but he doesn't stop petting with his fingers, keeping Dave hard against his body's natural will. “Do you think it fair, being able to go flaccid while I'm still hard as iron?”

“It's too _much_ ,” Dave wails.

Dirk smiles warmly at the way Dave's face twists in discomfort. He’s willing to bet not many people have seen his brother with that expression—if even any, other than himself—so he wants to soak it in as long as possible. Dave seems as though he might start crying. Lovely. Dirk tenderly smooths the sweaty bangs off Dave’s forehead with his free hand.

“You can do it, Dave. Come for me again, sweetheart.”

With a sob, Dave arches against the mattress, and his tortured cock dribbles out a pathetic showing of milky fluid.

“See? I told you, little brother. I’ve always known best what you’re capable of.”

“Go to hell,” Dave pants, his chest heaving. He’s covered with sweat and utterly limp against the sheets.

“I love you,” Dirk says sweetly, kissing his forehead. Dave swats at him weakly and he laughs.

While Dave recovers, Dirk busies himself with carelessly pulling off and tossing Dave's boots and tugging off the ridiculous white stockings. Dave watches Dirk strip him with wary eyes. He knows his brother well enough to understand that this is merely a temporary reprieve.

When he’s finished removing all of the clothing on Dave, Dirk starts on himself, adopting a mild look. “You look as though I'm liable to attack at any moment.” He stands up to remove his own boots and shimmy out of his vest, shirt and pants.

Dave laughs shakily. “Aren't you?”

Dirk continues to look on with that same nonplussed expression, as though he doesn't know how helpless his brother is feeling or see Dave's tiny little shiver. “About to attack you?” He retrieves a small jar from his trunk and returns to the bedside, now every bit as naked as Dave, though considerably more erect. His knee sinks into the feather mattress next to Dave's hip, then a palm near Dave's ear, stalking up his body. “No.” He curls around Dave's side like a snake, his dick hot and hard against Dave's hip, and he feels the nervous tension in the body pressed against his. That won’t do. Dave ought to trust his brother’s sincerity.

Their relationship was not always so contentious. Once, a lifetime ago, they were impoverished urchins sharing a single bed in a single, ramshackle room, with no one but each other, and Dirk was at much greater leisure to explore his little brother’s body and compile an extensive mental catalogue of its weaknesses. He makes good use of that advantage now, trailing innocent kisses across his throat. With each one, Dave sighs softly and his muscles relax a little more. His neck has always been exquisitely sensitive.

“False innocence doesn't suit you, brother,” he murmurs. Evidently he is not entirely taken in by Dirk’s performance.

Dirk doesn't reply because he is far too busy proving the veracity of his innocence with even more completely guileless kisses to the hollow of Dave's throat and down his shoulders. He starts down the dangerous slope of Dave's chest but stops right after his ribs and returns to kiss him briefly on the mouth. “Accusing me of falsehoods in my own bed.” Dirk sounds hurt and disappointed, though his cock certainly hasn't flagged. “Tell me then, what does suit me?”

“No," Dave says flatly. “The last thing your ego needs is fuel.” He tempers his rejection with another kiss, drawing Dirk in with a hand on the back of his neck. He holds it longer than Dirk did, ending it with a nibble of his brother's lower lip.

“You mean to tell me that your answer isn't ‘jail’ or ‘a noose’?” Dirk's tone mildly surprised and his eyes sweep over Dave's face in vague puzzlement. Dave doesn’t answer, but he’s almost sure he sees hurt flicker across his features, too fleetingly to read clearly. Hmm. He puts that aside as his gaze comes to rest on Dave's lips, quickly reverting to lusty. He touches them with his fingertips. “I wonder what else you could have thought to say. I'm unconvinced that my ego would not benefit from a good stroking by your hands.”

Dave's tongue flicks teasingly against his brother's fingers. “Are you sure you meant to say _ego_?”

“Now there's a question.” With a devilish grin, Dirk chases Dave's tongue with his fingers, slipping them just between his lips. He shifts his hips a little, pressing his cock a little more insistently against Dave's thigh. “You could help me answer it.”

Dave makes a thoughtful noise, biting lightly at Dirk's fingertips. “Oh? And how should I do that?”

Dirk snorts and withdraws his hand, giving Dave a loving little flick on his nose. “Ah, I had forgotten that the Royal Navy doesn't much appreciate creativity,” he teases. His eyes flick down Dave’s body, and he makes a note that Dave’s body seems to have recovered from his torments, but doesn't draw attention to it just yet. “Taking orders, however. That's right up your alley, aye, Lieutenant?”

“I was practiced in that before I ever enlisted." Dave's tone is wry. "My elder brother gave me quite an education.”

Dirk purses his lips, trying to keep the sudden ugly wave of resentment from sweeping over him. Dave would be in this bed every night if Dirk had taught him obedience as thoroughly as he claims. He slides his hand down Dave's bare chest, over the dried come spatters, trying to distract himself from the reality of their situation. “Did he? But that must have been ages ago. Are you certain you still remember?”

“Some things are difficult to forget.” Dave's voice is rough with desire, his chest rising and falling sharply under Dirk's hand. He brushes his fingertips over Dirk's mouth, trying to smooth away the pout. “But you are free to put it to the test, if you have doubts.”

“Shall I test your nautical vocabulary as well?” It's hard to hold on to bitterness when every move, every breath, every word from Dave is so sweet. And now that Dave is getting worked up again, Dirk doesn't really want to waste time on things that aren't pleasuring his brother. Dirk kisses those fingertips, a tender action that contrasts with the wide, teasing smirk playing over his lips. “How about you dock right here.” Dirk gestures to his mouth. “Your stern on my bow.”

That startles a laugh out of Dave. “Aye, Captain.” He rolls, pushing Dirk onto his back. He pulls himself to hands and knees so he can straddle Dirk's chest, providing himself with an excellent view of Dirk's impressive—and rather painful, at this point—erection. He strokes one fingertip lightly over the weeping head. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

The excellent view of Dirk's cock will definitely give Dave the opportunity to see how Dirk reacts to being addressed with titles of respect. “Permission granted, love,” Dirk nearly groans, his breath audibly catching at Dave's soft touch.

Of course, that's all sideshow to the glorious sight in front of him. Dave's ass is a treasure, and it's been a long while since he's claimed it. It drives him a little mad, and he grabs Dave's hips and pulls them backwards, nipping hard into the soft flesh of one cheek when he still doesn't feel Dave's mouth on him. “Get on it already, Lieutenant.”

Dave swallows a cry and clicks his tongue chastisingly. “Impatience does not lend itself to command,” he says with mock gentleness. But he obeys the order anyway, following his light touch with a delicate lick, just grazing the tip. Then he seems to decide he is done with teasing and wraps his lips firmly around the head of Dirk's cock.

“Clearly it does,” Dirk breathes in reply, the relief of stimulation making him both dizzy and distracted. He refrains from rocking his hips, despite wanting to bury himself in the heat of Dave's mouth, and forces himself to focus on the task at hand. His fingernails dig into Dave's inner thighs and rake sharply upwards, spreading Dave with clawing fingers in order to slip his tongue into the space between. Dirk almost feels bad about his unkempt facial hair—the stubble on his cheeks scrapes against Dave's smooth skin as he buries his face in him. But it's been a while and this is the fastest way to getting Dave ready, so it's for his own good.

Dave has never minded having a little pain mixed in with his pleasure, anyway. He moans, the sound vibrating around Dirk's cock, and applies himself with new dedication to his task, to reward Dirk for his effort. He wraps his fingers firmly around the base of Dirk's cock and covers the rest with his mouth, bobbing his head gently up and down.

The jar he retrieved earlier is placed conveniently near him on the mattress, and Dirk snatches it, plunging his fingers in to coat them with oil. They slide easily into a passage already prepared by the ministrations of Dirk’s tongue. The sound of Dave’s approval vibrates around his cock as he scissors his fingers.

Dirk has been too hard for too long and is barely keeping it together. He groans loudly and cracks a palm against Dave’s ass, hoping to get Dave to move off of him. Perhaps he didn't think their current position through quite enough; he wants to plow Dave now but doesn't exactly have the leverage to make that happen. An irritated, impatient noise escapes him.

“Just a warning: if I don't have you sitting tall and pretty on my cock in a matter of moments, Lieutenant Strider, you are going to get a taste of how cruel pirates can be.”

Dave pops off his brother's dick and swings himself around with rather impressive grace so that he can take it from the other end. “Aye-aye, sir.” After pausing for a moment to give Dirk an indulgent smile, he reaches behind himself to guide Dirk's cock into his entrance. He lets out a gratified moan as it slides in, his eyelids fluttering as his head drops back.

Heat envelops his cock as Dave sinks down and Dirk has to focus all of his attention on staving off his orgasm. His hands fly to Dave's hips, grasping at him, using his nails to anchor into his skin and keep him still, and regulates his exhales through his nose. The way Dave took him so casually was extremely appealing, but also a little disarming. He's not used to Dave taking charge like that, and he's not sure how to feel about it. Dirk's gaze sharpens ever so slightly, though his voice stays thick and throaty and desperate for Dave. “Where did you learn that move, sweet? Not the Navy, I hope.” 

“Are you an idiot?” Dave asks dismissively, trying to rock his hips despite Dirk’s death grip on them.

Dirk’s eyes narrow. He reaches up, catches Dave's chin and draws him down like he's going to kiss him, but his other arm swings around Dave's waist and flips him onto the bed. He’ll take no more sass from his mutinous little brother. Dirk forces Dave’s thighs wide open and snaps his hips—no buildup, just fast and rough fucking from the start as a sharp contrast to Dave's teasing. He digs his fingers into Dave's skin again, pulling his spine into an arch, his teeth at Dave's ear. “You're mine,” he reminds his brother while breathing hard from the force of his thrusts. “You're mine, Dave, and no one in this world—not your captain, not the admiral, not the Queen—will ever take you from me.”

Dave turns his head to catch Dirk’s lips instead of answering. It keeps Dirk from continuing to speak, at least, but it doesn't gentle him any. He is as rough and possessive with Dave's mouth as he is with the rest of his body and his teeth catch Dave's lower lip and give it a sharp tug, pulling him forward only to force him back again with ravenous kisses. Dirk will not be distracted. Dave is his, unable to stand against him either verbally or physically, and he takes all that he can in this moment, before he loses any of his power over his brother. What he gives back is hardly generous to Dave—he slides his arms under Dave's knees and folds them to his chest, moving with less violence but hitting deeper and more precisely. He doesn't touch Dave's cock, though that doesn't mean he didn't feel it throb at his words.

“No one else can make you feel this way, can they?”

He doesn’t receive an answer, per se, and doesn’t really expect one. Dave is beyond verbal expression now, and it’s anyone’s guess whether he even heard the question. Still, he means to elicit a response from Dave somehow, and targets his prostate with ferocious accuracy. Sounds spill from Dave’s mouth in a wordless jumble, rising in volume with every thrust.

“The whole of the port will hear you if you keep it up, brother,” Dirk says breathlessly, partly from exertion and partly from laughter. It isn't a cruel laugh and, despite being caused by the volume of Dave's cries, it isn't meant to shame his brother. He laughs because he truly, honestly happy to hear Dave lose himself. It's a power trip, no denying it, but it's also a sign that his stick-in-the-ass brother has finally given himself over to oblivion, and Dave needs that. He's always needed someone to get him out of his head and help him live a little, just like Dirk needed his stubbornness and morality to keep them out of too much trouble. They balance each other.

He evidently did hear Dirk this time, though, because he jams his knuckles into his mouth in an attempt to muffle his voice. So modest. Also unacceptable.

“Mm, I think not,” Dirk whispers in a voice like poisoned honey, plucking Dave's hand from his lips and pressing it firmly into the bed. “I'm rather fond of the idea. Everyone will know who has claimed you. Everyone will know who it was that gave you release.” Dave whines helplessly. Dirk won't touch his cock, but his fingers squeeze around Dave's thighs tight enough to bring pain and he tirelessly picks up the tempo and brutality of his rhythm, pounding Dave towards climax. “Tell them, Dave,” he orders softly in that same sweet, dangerous tone. “Scream my name.”

He does. Dirk has finally fucked the stubborn, pointless disobedience out of his brother, and it’s indescribably sweet to hear his own name in that raw, near-earsplitting voice as thin white fluid shoots over his stomach and chest.

Blood roars through Dirk's ears, almost drowning out Dave’s voice. Dirk knows he could join Dave—he's been holding off his orgasm for ages now and the spasming happening around his cock is more than enough to tip him. It's simply a matter of whether he wants to continue drawing this out. A glance at Dave's sightless, hazy eyes and mouth slack with pleasure gives him his answer. Dirk's breath comes shallow and fast as he snaps his hips and then buries himself deep in Dave. It has been too long and Dirk loses himself to it, filling his brother with his seed, a low moan tearing loose from his throat. Finally spent, he drops his damp forehead onto Dave's heated skin, his slowly softening cock still inside of Dave. “Three to one.”

“Don't look to me to even the score, brother,” comes Dave’s exhausted but still acerbic reply. “At least not within the next hour." He strokes the back of Dirk's neck, tenderly threading fingers through sweat-dampened hair.

Dirk lifts his head and smiles, a little tiredly but still with all of his devilish pirate charm and glints of gold teeth. “Where else is there to look, my love? There is no one else I want but you.” He kisses Dave's temple and reluctantly rolls off of him, fishing for a rag to wipe Dave's chest and stomach clean before he makes a mess of the bed.

“You talk so sweet,” Dave rasps. He takes the cloth from Dirk’s hand and tosses it aside so he can pull Dirk down on top of him. “I’m tired,” he says, a slight whine in his voice. “It’s your fault, you know, so you have to make it up to me.”

Dirk settles himself over Dave and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Did you have something in mind?”

Dave shifts his head to kiss Dirk full on the mouth, rather sloppily. “Hold me until I fall asleep.”

Only exhaustion could lead Dave to make such a sweet and openly affectionate request. Unable to deny it, Dirk rolls partially off Dave so as not to crush him with his weight, and wraps his arms around his brother's body, holding him tight. They slept like this frequently in childhood, even before their relationship changed into something more than brotherly. Still, it's familiar and welcome, and his orgasm was enough to smooth out Dirk's thoughts on Dave for the time being. Dave seems similarly contented, tucking his face against Dirk’s neck and twining their legs together. He’s soft and warm and trusting in Dirk’s arms, the way he ought to be always. Dirk feels his breathing grow slow and steady as he drifts off, and kisses the top of his head.

“I’ll hold you until you wake,” he promises.


End file.
